


call shenanigans

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Backstory, Fluff, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Misunderstandings, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Hey, so. We’re married. Still.I’d kind of like to not be married anymore.Can we meet? — HS“Damn it, Han.” The only things around to hear him talking to himself were the walls and they weren’t talking back. Not to anyone besides Lando anyway, who might’ve rigged some of the public rooms around here with bugs and snoop droids. If he was going to take Cloud City for his own one day, he had to know its people. And that meant seeing them at their best and their worst, neither of which he’d get on his own. “Yeah, let’s meet. That sounds like a great idea.”





	call shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [armsofthestorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/armsofthestorm/gifts).



Lando stared down at the pad in his hand, reread the words he couldn’t possibly be reading—he was, he absolutely was, but he chose to ignore reality for the time being, it was nicer living in the clouds, metaphorically in this case—and couldn’t decide whether the urge to laugh or yell was the stronger one. Hells. He always knew this was going to come back and bite him in the ass one day, but he’d never imagined it would happen in quite so mundane a way.

_Hey, so. We’re married. Still._

_I’d kind of like to not be married anymore._

_Can we meet? — HS_

“Damn it, Han.” The only things around to hear him talking to himself were the walls and they weren’t talking back. Not to anyone besides Lando anyway, who might’ve rigged some of the public rooms around here with bugs and snoop droids. If he was going to take Cloud City for his own one day, he had to know its people. And that meant seeing them at their best and their worst, neither of which he’d get on his own. “Yeah, let’s meet. That sounds like a great idea.”

Lando shot off a terse response and offered Han the option of a handful of space stations and planets that were, as far as such things could be, neutral territory, both personally and professionally. Not a lot of places the Empire didn’t poke its nose in these days. Lando cherished them whenever he found one. Surely one day, assuming this nascent group of rebels he keeps hearing about don’t succeed, all those places will be flushed out and destroyed.

It wasn’t all that surprising when Han accepted his suggestion that they meet on Takodana; he was just impressed that Han answered back so quickly, barely half a day passing between Lando’s response and his own.

Damn. He really did want this taken care of. Lando wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not.

How bad could it be being married to Lando?

In fact, he should be grateful Lando hadn’t wanted to get a divorce first.

*

The lush green of Takodana never failed to tug at something deep inside of Lando, something primal, a need to reach out and touch, to breathe in and just be, even if only for a few minutes. Him and nature didn’t generally get along, but out here, Lando wanted just that. Kind of like how it would be nice if he and Han could get along, too.

Guiding his _Lady Luck_ into the complimentary maglocks Maz kept for all of her visitors in her considerably-sized spaceport, he shook his head and huffed. Look at him. He hasn’t even seen the man yet and he was already getting into fights with him. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered, thinking back on all the times he had argued with a Han who wasn’t there to argue back. Even so, when all was said and done, those were his favorite sort of disagreements. No one actually got hurt by them.

Ship secure, he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his cape, a deep gray tightweave silk that Han had absolutely never said brought out the color in Lando’s eyes and made him look at least twice as dashing as he did on a normal day. The shirt, at least, was new, a darker shade of gray that sat uncomfortably on his shoulders, too stiff, too intimidating. Not his thing at all.

Lando hated it, but he got the feeling he’d need to be stiff and he’d need to be intimidating. Tugging on the hem, he made for the exit ramp and willed his heart to stop thundering against his chest like it would be staging a jailbreak at any moment.

How long had it been anyway? Three months? Six? Time smudged in strange ways when Han was gone and blurred in the usual way when he was there. Long enough for Lando to miss him, which still registered as far too long even though Lando knew better now. He was getting old; Han was getting old. He didn’t have it in him to pull this shit with another person anymore. They both deserved better.

 _Let’s get divorced_ , he thought, a little sad despite the provenance of the marriage to begin with. A gamble, a fraud. Losing it was nothing worth crying over and yet knowing it would soon be done and over with punched a hole in his chest and left him aching.

Finally stepping into the place, he scanned the crowd. Even if the faces changed, the place stayed the same. Takodana was Takodana. And Maz’s Castle was Maz’s Castle. Even the song, new to Lando, felt old and well-worn. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit better in these most familiar of surroundings.

Han loped toward him from their corner of the bar, not quite their table—it was taken by an Ithorian and a couple of Pantorans—a doofy, crooked smile on his face and new smile lines around his eyes. His hair fell into his face and gave him a boyish, jovial look that suited him perfectly. His pants stretched pleasantly across his thighs, probably the same pair he’d worn the last time they saw one another, the realization of which sent heat shooting through Lando’s most sensitive parts.

Damn the man to hell and back. He knew exactly what he was doing.

His arm looped around Lando’s shoulders, heavy against his neck as he dragged Lando closer to him. The scent of his cologne ticked at Lando’s nostrils, spicy and rich and wholly out-of-character for Han on most days. He either wanted to impress Lando or distract him. At this point, both were happening. Anger settled in his stomach, twisting with how easily manipulated Lando was. _Maybe that’s the point_ , he thought, grasping at every straw that came his way. _Maybe he wants you to be mad at him, make this whole thing easier_.

“It’s really been too long,” Han said as Lando grit his teeth. “You’re looking real good if I say so. Bespin’s working miracles for you.”

“Thanks,” Lando answered, dry, “I think.”

Han patted him on the arm, only releasing him because they’d reached the table Han had chosen for them. More gallant than he had any right to be, he pulled Lando’s chair out for him.

Sweeping his cape aside, Lando took his seat, settling his hands on his thighs and avoiding the temptation to drum his fingers against his kneecaps. “What’s your game here, Han?” His eyes scoured the table. “And where’s my drink?”

Instead of bristling like any normal person would’ve, Han just grinned even more, his eyes going as far as twinkling—which, honestly, Lando thought was going a bit too far. Han wasn’t supposed to look so appealing while he effectively destroyed a pointless symbol of something neither of them wanted or needed in their lives that somehow still seemed to mean something to one of them. The one of them who was a sucker apparently.

Lando hated being suckered, especially by an inferior swindler like Han Solo.

“Can’t I just want to see you?” Han raised his hand to signal at the nearest serving droid. It wheeled its way toward them, a tray holding two Bespin Breezes in its hand. “And if you’d just hold onto your seat for a minute, your drink would get here.”

“You could if you hadn’t left me a comm message telling me exactly what this was about.” Lando’s mouth twitched and he wasn’t sure if it was with disappointment or reluctant amusement. “You tryin’ to tell me something here?”

“There’s no game.” Han stopped speaking long enough for the droid to flip a pair of paper coasters onto the table and then deposit the drinks onto them. Already they were sweating through the glass, ice clinking and clanking against the sides. Bespin Breezes were supposed to be refreshing, but Lando wasn’t really looking for that right now. He’d rather have contended with the white-hot burn of whiskey or even something stronger. Han picked up his glass and tipped it slightly against the lip of Lando’s. “Not anything beyond the usual anyway.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Lando, after only a little more hesitation, picked up his own glass. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m respectable now.” _Well, mostly_.

Surprisingly, Han’s features clouded before going entirely blank for a handful of moments that spanned the length of three heartbeats. Then, he swigged his Breeze and all returned to normal. What appeared to be a porcelain façade regained its stability. “Congratulations, Lando. I always knew one of us would do it.”

Lando barked out a laugh. The chances of Han going straight were somewhere in the vicinity of nil and no way in hell, an impossibility that neither of them could rightly fathom, but Lando in particular had a hard time believing. There were days, sometimes, back when their idea of together meant being in close proximity to one another, when Han would talk about legitimizing his ventures. He’d become a merchant, he would say, dreamy. Or start a shipping company, a good one. The kind that got everything where it needed to be and Han made enough credits off of it that he could go about doing what he wanted.

You wouldn’t know what to do with all that free time, Lando had shot back, Han’s fingers massaging the back of his head, his body warm full along the length of Lando’s in the bed they shared, still Lando’s favorite for all that he never got to stay there anymore.

“I could do you,” he’d said, offhand, not even a little bit sophisticated before rolling on top of Lando, pressing him into the sheets and kissing him far more thoroughly than anyone as ridiculous as Han Solo should’ve been capable of.

“It’s not that hard,” Lando said now, dragged back to the present by his own sense of decorum. Down that particular lane, the memories got a little hairy. “You just stop pissing off Imperial law enforcement and then—”

With a balk, Han let his hand flat through the air. “Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the profit?”

“You’re not seeing much profit doing the opposite, I think,” Lando answered. “But fair enough point.” The Empire didn’t much like seeing the little guys of the galaxy get ahead in any respect, not outside of the rigid framework through which they measure success. Lando refused to go that route, but he thought he may have managed to attain a third way forward, something between scoundrel and saint. It filled him with glee to consider it. “It’s not much fun.”

“Exactly!” Han’s finger stabbed the air like it had done him wrong, but the look of pure glee on his face undermined the worst of the gesture. “Fun’s important, too.” He grew pensive then, with a suddenness that Lando worried he might have missed something here. Wherever Han had just gone, he couldn’t follow. “We have a lot of fun, don’t we?”

That wasn’t exactly what Lando would have called it, but he didn’t have the heart to deny Han here. Swirling the straw around his glass, he took another sip of his drink. Almost as good as Cloud City’s, but nothing would ever beat Bespin Kivis Kilmar, the Anoat-system famous mixologist responsible for the original Bespin Breeze. That Maz’s bartender came close was an impressive feat regardless. Certainly better than the overpriced swill they shilled at Singularity. “Yeah, Han. We have fun.”

But as nice as this was, Lando’s stomach clenched at the idea of putting this off any longer. “What’s going on really? Why now?” _What’s wrong with us that all of a sudden you’re springing this on me?_

Han had the good grace to look abashed at least, pushing his solid, sturdy, for once grime free fingers through his too-long hair. “It’s nothing really. Just Sana and I—”

“Sana?” As far as Lando knew, Sana had more sense in her head than to hook up with a man like Han. It was what made her such a good smuggler, a smarter one than Lando, that much was for sure. If an aching chasm opened in Lando’s heart at the thought that this had happened while he wasn’t looking, with Han being unable to say anything… “Since when…?”

Rolling his eyes, Han shook his head and leaned forward. “Nuh uh, buddy. Not like that.” But the way he said it suggested he wouldn’t have been opposed. And Lando couldn’t blame him for that either. “It’s for a job. I need a wife. I can’t do that while I’m married.”

 _You’ve got a husband. Why isn’t that good enough_. “What kind of job are you pulling that you need a wife?” _And why can’t you forge the documentation?_

_Why the hell do you care so much, Calrissian?_

_Wasn’t your own marriage for a job. The fact that you never got it annulled hardly matters, does it?_

“Look, as much as I’d like to tell you…” Han’s hand scratched at the back of his neck and he couldn’t meet Lando’s eyes for a moment. That might’ve hurt more at the beginning of this conversation than it did now, but given everything, Lando had just about reached his limit for feelings. “I only want you to stay safe, you understand? It’s not the nicest job I’ve ever taken.”

Lando didn’t, but he shrugged and smiled anyway, swallowing back the urge to berate Han for his stupidity. “Sure, I get it.” It wasn’t like Lando hadn’t spent his whole life protecting himself from dangers, sometimes even from dangers Han had instigated. Maybe Han had grown since the last time they saw one another. Or maybe it was all just bullshit and maybe it didn’t matter at all. “So you want a divorce.”

“I don’t want it.” The ice in Han’s glass clattered together as he lifted it to his mouth and swallowed the entire contents. “But…”

It was easy for Lando to finish the sentence that Han clearly didn’t want to finish on his own. “For the job.”

Han sighed with relief. “For the job.”

“Okay,” Lando said, cutting Han the slack he so desperately wanted. “You got it. We can file the paperwork tomorrow if you’d like.”

Han’s tongue poked out of his mouth, swiping across his lower lip before he rubbed the back of his hand across it. Not the most elegant of men, Han. And yet, Lando still cared about him enough that a marriage that had been fake from the start still mattered to him, too. What they had was no different than what Han and Sana had, at least in this one respect. It shouldn’t have mattered. It _shouldn’t._ And yet, it did.

As Han cleared his throat, Lando considered getting another drink or three, letting himself go just this once. Who knew how long it would be until he and Han saw one another again; Lando could happily make the most of it if only he had a little less sense and a little more courage.

“It’s kinda sad,” Han said, thoughtful, or an approximation of it. He eyed Lando closely though, studying him. “I might’ve liked being married to you.”

Lando snorted in response. “We didn’t exactly act like a married couple, Han.” And why he might’ve been discouraging Han, he couldn’t say. Then, foolish, “We could always get married again after. Properly, this time.” Not at midnight local time on a pleasure planet where everyone was intent on marrying anyone, lonely for the night and drunk on liquor and love and grandiose plans for the future. “With a… ceremony and everything.”

If Lando weren’t so cool under pressure, he might have winced.

Han’s teeth flashed white under the lights of Takodana and he ducked his head, almost bashful, a pretty enough look that Lando was charmed all over again, remembering just why he always played Han’s games, went along with his ridiculous schemes. It was for moments like this. “I wouldn’t mind that at all, you old charmer,” he said, warm and affectionate enough that it might’ve stolen Lando’s breath away if he let it. “That your way of saying you like being married to me?”

Which, he definitely let it. There was no point being a smuggler, a rogue, a scoundrel, if you didn’t let romance sweep you away from time to time. And Lando liked almost more than anything to be swept away.

“I might like it okay.” He grinned, couldn’t help it. Didn’t particularly want to help it. “It gets me some tax breaks on Squeela Thiv. Useful when you’re as conscientious as I am about money and savings.”

Before Lando could say more, Han reached over the table for him, grabbing him by his cape and pulling him forward. The unforgiving edge of said plasteel table dug into Lando’s stomach, but he didn’t mind in the slightest as he scrabbled to clasp his fists in the front of Han’s vest, yanking at him just as much, just as fiercely, like if he could hold tight enough to Han, the moment might never end. Huffing against Lando’s mouth, Han said, “You keep talking like that, Maz’s gonna have to ban us from the premises for indecent behavior.”

“Now who’s the old charmer?”

Clapping his hand against the table, Han let go of him and rounded the space between them. “Drink up. We’ve got a divorce to celebrate.”

Lando, never one to disobey a smart suggestion, did just that, his body growing flushed with the giddy intoxication he felt that had nothing at all to do with his alcohol consumption. “Sometimes, your ideas aren’t so bad. I’ll give you that much.”

Han’s arm snaked around Lando’s waist, pulled Lando flush against him. “Generous of you to say so.”

“Consider it an engagement present.”


End file.
